I got an email from a long time member of redmen.com, commenting on a couple of other members: fun and Ressurection of Joe (joe3). This is not unusual. Often these types of email include things like "please ban.." "he scares me" "…totally unreadable" "ruins it for the rest of us…" "even Moose hates this guy…" "&(DF*#$#@ moron" You get the idea.
after a couple of back and forth email, I didn't hear back but then this morning got another response. I thought about it and it is the off season so what the heck. I'm just going to paste it here rather than starting a new thread though:
I don't want to get into it with these schmucks and was wondering if you could post this anonymously for me? I was in a serious car accident last week and among other things my left femur was crushed. I am in a lot of pain even with all of the medication that I'm taking. (here he went into a lengthy description about itching and other maladies but I've left that part out) I was hoping that redmen.com would help as a distraction and even resorted to reading the back and forth between fun and joe. I'm not sure if this is the drugs taking over but I started trying to picture what these two look like and what kind of lives they lead. Naturally I came to wonder, what the Manifesto of each will look like when it was completed (and you know that each of them is working on one).
So I started playing this out hypothetically in my mind as fun sees an ad on craigslist for an off the grid, vacant shack. He grumbles about how newfangled craigslist is and how it could never compare to the grand old days of usenet and dialup 2600 baud bbs. He reluctantly moves into his glorious Walden, and holes up for a few months. It just so happens that about "20 clicks over yonder" another shack was recently vacated by a family of evil illegal (MEXICAN) aliens (that stole it from some mountain folk who were refugees from Stone Mountain, GA that had fled their land when the river was dammed and the city folk started coming with their boats and water skis). So joe3 moves in. For months they toil away in their respective solitude. Ultimately, fun gets tired of tripping over his beard so rips his Taylor Swift poster from the wall and emerges with a respectable, 2,941 page manifesto and races to the nearest convenience store to purchase some scissors and lotto tickets while comparing and contrasting himself favorably to Tolstoy and brushing off thoughts of Marx and laughing condescendingly at dead Nietzsche (until the convenience store clerk starts looking nervously his way).
Meanwhile for months, joe3 has been listening to fun, echoed through the wilderness and this acted as his muse. Incessant screams, chants, and the strange yelling out the name "St. Ned" joe3 knows that fun is a fellow atheist so he finds this last, strangest of all and begins (very briefly) to ponder whether he too might find his own deity alone out here in the woods (but this quickly passes). When fun's songs of creative joy cease suddenly, joe3 fears that fun has finished before him (or cut out his own tongue in a fit of artistic brilliance (which would make joe3 REALLY jealous)) but is determined not to be outdone and emerges with his own 90,000 page manifesto (he could have done more but he liked 90,000 as a nice, even number while 100,000 would have been just cliche). joe3 skips the convenience store and races over to the offices of the NYTimes. After being beaten on the way, by three cab drivers (who were most likely illegal aliens) for stinking up their vehicles (now that is saying something) he finally makes his way only to get tossed repeatedly by security. A dejected, joe3 is ready to give up when by some miracle of chance (since joe3 is an atheist there are no "miracles") a little, bespectacled fellow (he wears glasses and works at the NY Times so he must be smart right?) walks over and starts reading through the masterpiece. After a few minutes he declares that it is acceptable and calls down for some staffers to wheel up the 90,000 pages. joe3 hears him mumble something about GAO report and walks away. joe3 is satisfied that finally his brilliance will be recognized and races home to play Call of Duty Black Ops 2. (he just loves the undertones of political commentary and metaphors the zombies represent)
meanwhile fun has dusted off his iphone and Audi r8 (which he keeps meaning to trade in for a Prius) and is paging through his manifesto. He spends a few weeks hounding various publishers without luck. He finally gives up when even threatening to eat their livers (with onions) doesn't persuade any of them. But while sitting deflated in a coffee shop a man stops by his table and comments appreciatively about the artwork (doodles) that adorn just about every page of his manifesto (if fun had lived in the Dark Ages his manifesto would properly be referred to as "illuminated" and the doodles would have been done in 24k gold ink). In short order (burger and fries), fun is the darling of an elite Manhattan gallery and his pages cover their walls. Throngs of wealthy (1%rs) lavish him with ongoing praise and make smart comments in between trading tips with each other on how to avoid taxes and ruin the American way of life for the rest of us. Nostalgically fun paces the gallery appreciating the doodles and always lingering at what he refers to as his "Aubrey Beardsley phase" which is sequentially just after his Led Zeppelin phase which is a sub-phase of his psychedelic rock, album cover phase - he shudders for a second remembering the nightmarish hours he spent struggling with Pink Floyd..
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Well anyway, thank you Paul. I keep meaning to use the donation page on your site but the last time I intended to do this, I got into a major car accident so I probably won't (ha, ha). But I've lost track of time and that is a good thing. In a few months when most of the drugs have left my system I'll read through what I sent you to see if any of it makes any sense. Maybe I'll even see it on redmen.com.
